SWM ISO SWF
by Hoodoo
Summary: Continuing the "Because It Is Bitter..." arc: Murdock meets Kerry. Rating for adult situations in later chapters.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: No recognizable characters are mine.

Note: Very slowly I'm filling in histories. This fic sits within the A-Team arc created earlier on this site; it takes place after "Paper Roses" and before "Because It Is Bitter...". Therefore, it contains an OC, and rating is because of some adult situations Murdock may get himself into later on.

Enjoy!

* * *

><p>Here he was again. He'd be creepy if he wasn't so innocent looking.<p>

Murdock scanned the thin shelves, pausing occasionally to run fingertips over certain glossy titles or photographs.

He never pick up the magazines unless he meant to buy them, and he was very deliberate in his selections, focused on the task at hand while ignoring other patrons and generalized hubbub in the small space.

Finally he added the American Kennel Club Gazette to the bundle in the crook of his arm that already contained Martha Stewart Living, Teen Vogue, The Economist, Writer's Digest, and Mental Floss, and carried his prizes over to the counter for check out.

The mid-day rush was over, he realized. The people on their lunch break, buying snacks and caffeine to get them through the rest of their day, had scurried back to their offices and cars. It was just him and the clerk here now. As he walked up, she guiltily put down a microwave tray of something under the counter and wiped her mouth.

"Sorry," she apologized, nodding towards the now hidden dish. "I was supposed to get a lunch break, but my co-worker never showed up today."

Murdock shrugged a little to show he didn't care. He did care, however, that whatever she was eating smelled like bland Indian curry.

"You read a lot, huh?" the clerk continued, typing in the barcode numbers of the magazines into the cash register.

"Excuse me?"

"You buy a lot of magazines. Different ones too," she elaborated, indicating the titles. "I'd say maybe you were going around stocking doctor's offices, but they never have anything interesting like Mental Floss or dog ones. Usually it's just Reader's Digest and stuff old people like to read."

He chuckled and agreed. He hadn't known she'd notice and mark him as returning multiple times recently. Hannibal wouldn't like that; Bossman always wanted them to be inconspicuous and forgettable. But the team was stuck here for a while, and he'd be lying if he said he didn't realize he came into this tiny store specifically when she was working—

"Are you eating bad Indian food?" he asked. "Would you like some real curry?"

* * *

><p>And that was how he met Kerry.<p>

He explained how he lived with three other guys, and even though she typically didn't invite strangers over to her place immediately, he offered to cook her dinner and she scribbled down her address and phone number on one of the magazine covers he'd bought.

It would be okay, she reasoned. Her roommate was home for the evening; there was protection in numbers.

When she answered the knock on her door that night, she found Murdock juggling three grocery bags crammed full of ingredients on her stoop. Laughing, she took one of the bags—it was heavy but the lightest of the three, he insisted—and invited him in.

Murdock immediately commandeered the kitchen. Kerry was honestly surprised there was no bottle of wine in either of the bags; he explained he usually didn't drink and he knew it was odd, but wine didn't go with Indian because the food didn't traditionally pair with wine and therefore grape juice's acidity once it fermented wasn't accounted for to have a properly balanced meal, and it was best to not have it.

He promised salted mango lassis instead.

Kerry laughed again, and said that those would be perfect.

They chatted and didn't have many self-conscious pauses so common when meeting someone for the first time. Kerry's roommate wandered out of her room at one point, was introduced, grimaced at the smells coming off the top of the stove, and announced she was going out.

By then Kerry didn't mind she would be home alone with basically a stranger.

It didn't seem strange, though; he put her at ease and they laughed at each other's jokes. She tried to help but realized she was out of her league in the cooking arena. He had her puree the mangoes for the drinks while he put the finishing touches on dinner, then piled the small table high with the different chutneys and curries and vegetables he made.

They ate with the same companionable comfortableness.

There were a lot of leftovers, of course, and she insisted he take some with him; he insisted on not, because there wasn't enough to feed everyone else. Eventually she told him that if it was not enough for them but too much for her, he would have to come back over and eat again.

Murdock didn't hesitate as he agreed, and then hoped he didn't sound too eager.

He also insisted on helping with the dishes. Kerry didn't dissuade him from that, and between the two of them, the kitchen was clean in short order.

Then came the inevitable awkwardness when he made to leave. Murdock wasn't sure what was proper, did she expect him to kiss her? Was that too forward? Did she consider this a date? Did he? He should have grilled Face on what to do.

Kerry solved his dilemma by thanking him for a delicious meal, opening the door for him, and squeezing his hand the briefest of seconds.

She made him promise he'd be back to finish the leftovers—he did—and then she eased him out the doorway.

No kiss.

That was okay. She was nervous too.


	2. Chapter 2

Kerry ate Indian for lunch the next day, and the following evening, Murdock made fresh naan to liven up the remaining leftovers. They ate in the living room this time, in front of the TV, watching reruns of old black and white comedies. Kerry's roommate was asked to join them, but once again turned her nose up at the food and left.

Kerry shrugged it off.

"One of those things," she explained. "We knew each other in high school and got along okay, then grew up and both needed someone to live with. We didn't realize we'd become different people, but we're stuck together for now."

Murdock nodded, and realized how lucky he was that, even if his life wasn't incredibly stable, at least he had three great friends to have it with.

He told Kerry he and the team were independent contractors, and travelled quite a bit. They were choosy in picking their work but would be in the area for a while, which, he was pleased to see, made her look happy.

That night, after the dishes were done and the same awkward beast of a situation of what to do/what was expected lay in wait by the front door, Murdock decided she looked expectant. Surprising himself with his boldness, he leaned down and just kissed her.

It wasn't long or drawn out or demanding.

Just a simple kiss, and he was glad she didn't recoil or slap him.

When he finally left, he wondered briefly how he might bring up the subject of maybe-possibly seeing a girl to his teammates.

* * *

><p>It wasn't like they didn't know something was up. Nobody had anything remotely like a curfew, and lord knew that Face spent all sorts of weird hours out and about, but when Murdock left their rental two nights in a row and was cagey about telling them what he was doing, him meeting up with a girl was on Hannibal's radar, at least.<p>

Then he didn't go out for about a week. Then he was gone for three nights in a row again. Each night was later; the third he didn't get back in until well after two o'clock in the morning.

He found Hannibal sitting in a darkened room, smoking. The smoldering end of his cigar was the only light in the room, but the moonlight slanting in through the windows made it bright enough to see by.

"Captain," Hannibal said, by way of greeting.

"Colonel."

"Late night?"

"Yessir."

With the 'sir' tacked on to the reply, Hannibal knew he was nervous.

"She have a name, Captain?"

Murdock came a few steps further into the room, sighing as he did. "Her name is Kerry, sir. Kerry Roche."

"You don't have to call me sir, Murdock."

"You don't have to wait up for me like I'm a teenager."

Hannibal chuckled, breaking apart the fine lines of smoke drifting around his head. "Checkmate."

Murdock's shoulders released their tension at the both the laugh and the ceding.

"I wasn't waiting up for you," Hannibal told him honestly. "I had some trouble sleeping, thinking about things, and came downstairs. That's all."

"And you immediately assumed I was with a woman?"

"No. Well, a little. You simply confirmed it when I asked her name."

"I fell for the oldest trick in the book!"

Hannibal chuckled again. "Works like a charm. Have a seat?"

Murdock crossed the room and sat on the couch. He was half-way between tense and relaxed, and his fidgety movements sounded loud in the still room.

"Is she—," Hannibal said.

At the same moment, Murdock asked, "What were you thinking about?"

Both men stopped. Murdock murmured for the older man to continue, but Hannibal drew on his cigar and didn't. Murdock knew it was pointless to try and wait him out.

"What were you thinking?" he repeated.

Hannibal let his lungful of smoke back out. "Just old flames," he answered quietly, but didn't elaborate. "Women are on my mind tonight, apparently."

Murdock nodded. He'd never had anyone to pine after, not really, and couldn't possibly fathom what Hannibal might be thinking that kept him up all hours. About how he wished he could be with her, probably. About what he had had in the past. About his future, maybe?

What would it be like, to know there was someone out there thinking about him? How awful would it be to have someone out there, never knowing if they'd see him again, being forced apart by circumstance and not by choice? It would be so difficult.

Murdock didn't know if he would be able to do that.

"Is she nice?" Hannibal asked across the room, into the silence. "Where did you meet her?"

Murdock jumped at the interruption of his thoughts, even though the questions were quiet. "She works at the newsstand. Yeah, she's nice," he replied out of order. "Tonight she took me to a little theater that was showing old Three Stooges shorts."

For the third time, Hannibal chuckled. "A woman who voluntarily sits through the Three Stooges? Sounds like a keeper."

He laughed a little at that too. The next silence stretched a little long before Murdock cleared his throat and asked,

"So I suppose all of you guessed I was out with a woman?"

He sounded nervous.

Hannibal paused before putting his cigar in his mouth again. "Well, I had my suspicions. B.A. thought you were out playing D&D somewhere, or had joined a group to do robot wars. He would've been upset if that was the case and you didn't invite him along, but you didn't hear that from me."

The younger man's tension lifted a little with the joke, but was still audible in his voice while he asked,

"And Face?"

"Face had his suspicions too."

Murdock nodded, but once again, Hannibal didn't elaborate.

"So now's the time you're going to tell me about how we should run a background check on her? To make sure she is who she says she is? And I get a lecture about how I need to be safe, and remember that we may not be in the area too long?"

The abrupt bitterness in Murdock's voice surprised Hannibal.

"No," he replied slowly but without hesitation. "I trust you. We've already established we're here for several months. And I don't think you need a lecture from me about being safe."

Hannibal's surprise was mirrored in Murdock.

"Are you okay, Captain?"

"Y-yeah. Yes. Yes I am."

"Good. I'm going to bed, then. See you in the morning."

"Good night . . ."

Hannibal paused with his hand on the bannister, one foot on a stair tread, almost out of sight in the dark. "The only advice I'll give you is that it would probably be best to let Face know, if you're serious about dating this woman. He's sneaky, and finding out on his own probably won't be the best way for him . . . to make that discovery. He . . . he would never admit it, but he worries about you."

Before Murdock could respond to that, Hannibal was up the stairs.


	3. Chapter 3

Face's reaction was on Murdock's mind, and having Hannibal mention it in a fatherly way was both a bit insulting and a kick in the pants. He fretted about how to tell his best friend, because he did like Kerry and she seemed to like him—

"Morning, buddy," Face said as he wandered into the kitchen the next morning.

Murdock, who'd been staring out the window wondering if he could believe the weatherman who said there was a seventy percent chance of rain today—that'd wreck the plans he'd tentatively made with Kerry, to have a picnic outside, they'd have to relocate to indoors or maybe he'd convince her that under a pavilion was fine too—jumped.

"Take it easy, man. I didn't mean to startle you," Face chuckled, pouring himself a cup of coffee from the pot already made.

Murdock shrugged it off sheepishly. He wasn't jumpy unless he hadn't gotten enough sleep, and that certainly was the case since he didn't get to dreamland until after three-thirty. He'd come up with the idea for a picnic after Hannibal had gone upstairs, and called Kerry immediately to ask.

They'd talked for an hour or so on the phone.

"What time did you get in? I thought we were on for a game of foosball last night after you got back from that movie you said you were seeing—what was it again? But you didn't show and I needed my beauty sleep."

"Uh-huh. Right. Well, the thing is . . ." Murdock groped for words, which was unusual for him. He knew what he needed to say, but chickened out at the last moment. "The movie was a bunch of Three Stooges short features. It ran pretty long."

"The Stooges?" Face asked over his shoulder as he dug through the bread drawer for an English muffin. He began the tedious task of breaking it in half with a fork as he asked, "How'd you find out about that?"

"Well, it was an independent theater, and . . ."

Man up, Murdock!

". . . and this woman took me to see them."

He watched Face's bare back as he rushed out the rest of his sentence. The muscles in Face's shoulders became tense.

"Oh," came his reply.

It was too easily neutral to be real.

Face stayed facing towards the counter. "A woman, you said?"

This question was neutral with blatant polite interest.

"Yeah," Murdock answered. His throat was dry, but he didn't think trying to drink his lukewarm coffee right now would come to an easy end.

"Huh."

Hannibal had been wrong; Face didn't have suspicions! This blindsided his friend, and Murdock felt guilty, even if inside he knew it was okay and fine for him to date! Face didn't have to approve everything he did, or give the go-ahead to meet people!

"Her name is Kerry," Murdock burst out. "I met her at the newsstand, I've been at her place and cooked her dinner a few times, she's really nice, Face, you'll like her, I know it—"

"I'm sure she's nice," Face interrupted smoothly, settling the muffin in the toaster before finally turning around and leaning back against the counter. He took a swig from his cup. "Kerry, you say? That's a nice name."

Murdock blinked and watched the man across the kitchen from him.

"And she took you to the movies? That's cool. Especially the Stooges, I know how much you like them."

Face . . . Face was okay with this? That's how he should be, that's how friends are with one another, Murdock thought, but friends also have each other's back, and Face had made it no secret he was upset by the way Rio treated him—treated all of them—when she found out he had problems.

At first Face had tried to be tactful, but then grew more and more indignant for his friend when Murdock tried to wave it off, tried to pretend it didn't matter. More often than not in those first hard weeks after their breakup Face had slept in Murdock's bed with him, for companionship and support. It was nice to have someone accept you for who you were, who could see beyond medications and therapies.

Murdock didn't think he could ever repay his best friend for that, and that made him feel more unbidden guilt about springing this surprise on Face.

Faceman was doing his best to play it cool, but very small cracks in his pretense showed. He drank his coffee much more quickly than usual, and stayed against the counter as if rooted there.

"We're, ah, going to have a picnic today," Murdock said. Something, anything to say was better than this awkward silence. "You . . . you want to come along?"

"No."

The answer was sharp; more like what Murdock expected when he tiptoed around announcing he'd been seeing someone. Face realized it and dialed it back to casually interested.

"You shouldn't have anyone tagging along at . . . the beginning of . . . something," he explained. "So, no."

"I was hoping to invite her over to meet you all," Murdock said quietly.

Face caught his breath at that, and nodded. With his cup in front of his mouth, he said, "Good. Have her over."

Draining the last of his coffee, he set the empty cup in the sink and made to leave the room.

"Talk to you later, buddy," Face said, and walked out.

The toaster popped his English muffin up, but no one retrieved it.


	4. Chapter 4

Murdock had other things to worry about besides his best friend's less than enthusiastic response to his girlfriend.

Girlfriend. It should have sounded juvenile, but it gave him a quiver in his stomach when he thought it.

He did ask her over; it wasn't fair and would eventually seem incredibly odd if he kept going to her place. B.A. and Hannibal were polite and Kerry was a little nervous, but Murdock keeping hold of her hand and her real interest in a Harry Turtledove book Hannibal was reading eased her anxiety.

And she didn't tease, exactly, about the tattoos on B.A.'s knuckles, but she was intrigued by them and asked him a million questions like how long he'd had them, did it hurt on the thin skin of his hand, over the bones, and did he just pick two four-letter words randomly?

The lift of his eyebrows past her shoulder to indicate this woman was as weird as the crazy fool made Hannibal laugh.

She was introduced to Face—Murdock was more nervous than she at that point, because Faceman hadn't said anything more about the situation or her; his best friend _pointedly_ didn't talk about it—who adopted the dry reserve of the British. He was stiff and formal, which Murdock supposed was better than icy and biting, but it was still completely out of character for the self-proclaimed ladies' man, and it still stung.

Luckily Kerry didn't pick up on it.

It didn't get any better any more times Kerry came around either. The other two grew comfortable and seemed to like her. Face remained distant.

Murdock wished he could have his friend back; he needed some advice that Face would be best at providing, but the avoidance and obvious (to his eyes) disapproval was tiring.

"You're pretty rude, you know."

The blunt assessment made Face look up from the book of puzzles he'd been working. Kerry had just left, and Face had barely said goodbye as she walked passed. Murdock had shot him a look that displayed his annoyance at the slight; Face had shrugged it off.

Murdock had returned and stood in front of him. His anger was clear.

Face scowled. "Whatever."

He stood to leave; he didn't like people standing over him.

"Not whatever! What's your problem, Face? Are you so jealous that you can't be pleasant?"

"Am I so—what? _Jealous?_ I'm not jealous!" Face replied, honestly surprised Murdock came to that conclusion.

Murdock didn't back down. "Then what? Why are you being such an asshole to Kerry? Well?"

Face blinked at the verbal assault for a moment. He tried to corral his thoughts, make them come in line to most effectively explain that he thought Kerry would turn tail and run like Rio did, that there was no way she would be able to handle "Howling Mad" Murdock in place of "Chef" Murdock or "Quirky Guy" Murdock, and he just didn't want his best friend crumple and have set backs and slam his head into a wall because of a woman again—

"Well, Face? If it's not jealousy, it has to be something else. Wrath because I picked up a woman here and you haven't? Greed, because all women are yours until proven otherwise? Lust would be too easy, that's your fallback sin, isn't it? How about gluttony—again, all women are yours, right?"

The acidity in Murdock's voice stunned Face more than the non-sequitur of explaining his actions with deadly sins.

"No, Murdock, buddy—no! That's not it, it's . . ."

Murdock stopped but waited with an air of impatience.

Face fumbled to finish his sentence. ". . . it's—well, you know we aren't going to be here forever, and . . . is it fair, when you know we're leaving . . .?"

Murdock snorted. It wasn't a pleasant sound. "Don't lie to me, Temp. Don't try and throw some mock-Hannibal-esque reasoning at me and see if it'll stick. It's insulting."

When Murdock was on the ball it was a scary thing.

Face licked his lip and shoved a hand through his hair. He knew that Murdock knew those physical gestures were indications he was nervous and trying to buy time; now subtle impatience was radiating off his best friend and that certainly wasn't helping matters—

"Well?" Murdock insisted.

"It's just . . . you get so invested with a woman, and—"

Murdock interrupted with a sour tone. "Oh, so if it's not _your _type of relationship, there's no other way for it to work? If it's not just a one-night stand, if it's not this anonymous, physical -pleasure-only-thing, then it's worthless?"

The accusations stung. It was rare for Murdock to be that deliberately mean.

Face looked directly up at the man before him. His blue eyes were hard, and he had to tell himself to be the bigger man; this wasn't about him, it was about Murdock and this woman. If, however, Murdock wants the truth, then he'll have it—

"I just don't want to see you hurt again!" he said harshly.

Murdock took a breath.

Maybe spitting that statement was hurtful too, but Face figured it got the point across. He hoped, too, that he didn't have to say anything more; he hoped that Murdock could read into it and he wouldn't have to give detailed examples of how bad it was when Rio split. Murdock could do that, right? He was great at reading between the lines and coming to conclusions quickly, he could do it here too . . .

He'd deal with Murdock's assessment of how he conducted his own relationships later.

Now Murdock was the one who folded in on himself a little. The physical dropping of his shoulders sent a pang through Face.  
>When his best friend looked back up at him, the indignant outrage had fled.<p>

"I really like her, Face," he said quietly. The sincerity in his voice was heart-wrenching. "I want everyone to get along. That's all."

When Murdock's anger scattered, Face's did too. He reached out and took hold of Murdock's shoulder and neck, squeezing him with his hand.

"I'm sorry, man. I'll . . . I'll try harder."

Murdock nodded, a ghost of a movement.

"Okay?" Face dipped his head to look up into the pilot's face. "Okay?"

"Yeah. Okay."

Face tugged him into a hug, a fierce, manly thing meant to be rough and supportive. Murdock's breath was hot on his ear as he whispered,

"Okay," again with more conviction.

Face slapped his back as Murdock pulled away. The mood was remarkably lighter now, but the underlying current of tension was still there. Face didn't like it, and forced a chuckle.

"Kerry is cute, buddy, that's for sure. How'd you find someone like her working in a newsstand?"

Once again he knew that Murdock could read that this was obligated questioning, but gratefully, Murdock let it slide and forced his own responses to be friendly too. Strained banter was still banter, and Face promised himself to give Kerry a real chance because his friend asked.


	5. Chapter 5

So the uncomfortable problem of his best friend acting like a grade-A douchebag was hopefully coming to a close. Murdock's other problem, the one he would have liked to discuss with Face, was not.

He was grateful for the support and dedication the team gave him during his inevitable, involuntary mental setbacks. He knew Face put a lot of time and effort into helping him recalculate and tweak his medications. Everything had been going so well, then he had that breakdown, and although this newest regiment of drugs was keeping the demons at bay, it also had some unfortunate side effects.

Murdock was used to the inescapable fact that his meds mucked around with what he could do and how he could perform sexually. Changing things up meant he didn't know when—or if! _That _was pretty shitty; once in the past his libido dropped to below nothing. The docs in the VA didn't much care about that or consider that a problem, but when he was sprung he immediately retooled everything so he could at least _want_ to have a wank every once in a while, like a normal guy—he'd be back on track.

He hoped he'd be back on track soon. Luckily he hadn't lost all sexual appetite with this go round. He and Kerry had progressed to heavy petting, and he'd slept twice with her.

Murdock allowed himself a derisive chuckle.

"Slept with."

Yeah, right.

Number one: there was very little sleep going on. He'd actually only spent one night over at Kerry's place, the other time was the first wobbly-legged, this-is-new-and-fun-and-scary encounter they shared. She asked him to stay the night then too, but self-consciously he begged off.

Number two: the term "slept with" used in the vernacular should have meant he had actual intercourse with her, and that hadn't happened yet at all. The make-out sessions that led to more ended with him going down on her. She loved it, and he enjoyed doing it. Kerry was responsive and not inhibited about letting him to be so intimate with her, unlike some other women he'd tried to be generous to; he liked that she was confident in herself and took pleasure from it.

It turned him on, and that was good. His dick hadn't quite got the message yet, though. But given time, Murdock was pretty sure that would happen.

He just needed to figure out a way to keep Kerry around long enough for all the pieces to fall into place.

Therein lay the problem.

Both times he'd pleasured her and brought her to trembling orgasm, she'd bounced back and wanted to do something for him. Understandable, really. Sex, good sex, was about mutual give and take, and Murdock had seen the confusion and—dare he hope?—disappointment on her face when he waved her off.

He didn't want to devalue what he gave her by making her think she didn't make him hot, because she did.

Murdock knew the razor's edge he balanced on. Too much refusal of allowing her to pleasure him would backfire eventually—he realized he'd never even been completely naked with her yet, even as he'd stripped her bare and licked her everywhere! But letting her see his supposed indifference and the futility of trying to get him up would be perplexing and insulting to her.

And there was the niggling notion that he could have another breakdown in front of her, and hurt her like he did Rio . . .

Rio left because she couldn't be with a crazy man. He'd made Face tell him, made his best friend say the words she'd said, even though his best friend hemmed and hawed and tried his damnedest to get out of the request.

Surprisingly, hearing what she'd said didn't cut as deep as either of them expected. Murdock always had the sneaking suspicion that that would be the case with women he was serious about, which made Face more upset when Murdock half-mentioned it. So he didn't say anything along those lines ever again.

But he did really like Kerry, and of course never meant to hurt anyone physically or emotionally, and he knew he did both to Rio, which was completely unfair to her!

Murdock sighed. Kerry had invited him over for the evening, and in that rosy, expectant glow that everyone seemed to have at the honeymoon beginning of a relationship, he was hopeful the evening could culminate in some physical activity. He didn't want to seem pushy or act like a typical sex-obsessed guy, but he couldn't deny his own thoughts. And he was smart enough to know that women felt and hoped the same thing, so that leveled the playing field.

There was one final avenue open to him, in lieu of lying by omission or hoping that some benevolent god passing by might zap his dick into working.

Murdock just prayed that if he came clean to her, that buoyant honeymoon feeling wouldn't sour and shatter.


	6. Chapter 6

They went out for dinner that night; Kerry had a favorite Mexican restaurant she craved. Murdock kept up some lively chitchat with their waitress and even drank a margarita at Kerry's insistence. He also told her that he could do up tamales that she could freeze if she liked them so much.

She didn't seem surprised he could make homemade tamales and said that'd be great, but only if he would teach her how to make them too.

He grinned and told her of course.

In the driver's seat of her car, Kerry asked tentatively if he'd like to have her drop him off at home, or if he'd like to come over for a while . . . ?

Murdock hoped he didn't sound too excited or desperate when he replied he'd hoped to spend more time with her tonight.

So they'd gone back to an empty apartment. Kerry explained that her roommate had a second shift rotation for a few weeks, which was nice. Murdock agreed.

Even though they hadn't had many intimate times together, they were learning each other's preferences and inclinations. Kerry had surprised him by being so forthright and semi-aggressive; Murdock found it stimulating that he didn't have to initiate and control the action all the time, every time.

Tonight when she flicked off the TV—too many flashing visuals from the screen distracted her, he'd found, which meant no making-out in a movie theater like teenagers—and pounced on him, he settled back to enjoy the attention.

She kissed and nipped and stripped him of his shirt and lightly scratched her fingernails over his chest. He wasn't passive; he did the same to her until they were both panting and topless. Kerry straddled his lap, leaning over him so that her hair fell to either side of his face as she looked down on him a moment before lowering herself for another deep kiss.

As her tongue danced with his, Murdock felt her fingers working his belt buckle. He disengaged from her mouth and caught her wrists.

"Can we go to your bedroom?" he asked, instead of being honest. "It'll be more comfortable."

Kerry smirked and stood up. She left her discarded shirt and with deliberate movements, popped the button on her own pants. Making sure he watched her, she turned her back on him and wiggled her jeans over her hips and down, making a show of it.

She never had the opportunity to remove the clothing completely; Murdock scooped her up from behind and carried her through the apartment to her bedroom. Kerry shrieked with laughter and he couldn't contain his laughter either.

On the bed he assisted in getting her completely naked, then fondled and caressed her while she was on her back and he on his side. He kissed her frequently, even as she giggled and moaned, then, before his hand slipped over her thigh towards its ultimate goal, Kerry grabbed his wrist in mimicry of what he'd done earlier.

Murdock's heart caught in his throat—he knew this would come, he didn't think he was ready to admit his shortcomings yet—

Kerry pulled his hand upward again. He watched her wide-eyed; she seemed oblivious to his sudden nerves. Instead of what he expected next, however, she only shifted his hand to dip his fingertips towards her mouth. Carefully, making full sure he was attentive, Kerry sucked at each of his fingers individually, then in groupings.

Her lips and tongue were soft and smooth, and the sudden, unexpected harder suction she interspersed the licking with made Murdock gasp. He had to open his mouth to breathe.

Finally, Kerry released his hand from her mouth. His fingers were suddenly cold in the room air. She kept hold of his wrist and guided his hand back down to its starting position near the junction of her legs.

Murdock didn't need her to say what she wanted next, and didn't hesitate to bring her to orgasm with just his fingers.

* * *

><p>In the lamplight, Murdock watched her with a smile ghosting the corners of his mouth.<p>

"What?" Kerry asked, still catching her breath.

"I just like looking at you, is all. I like the flush here on your cheekbones, and that you're trembling, and—"

"And you're all smug because you're so good at that?" she teased.

A full grin split his lips. "Yep. Something like that too."

Kerry laughed and stuck a finger into just the right spot on his side to make him howl. She'd discovered the ticklish spot and exploited it to her advantage.

Murdock wrestled her hand away and forced her back onto the mattress. Half draped over her, the same softer expression came back to his face and he kissed her again. She strained up into him, lifting her head off the bed in an effort to keep contact longer.

When he let her go, she popped back up and pushed him onto his back while shifting to be on her side, in a mirror of the position they'd just been in.

Dragging her fingertips through the hair on his chest and pinching his nipples just so, she asked,

"What about you?"

"Hmm?"

Murdock propped his head on a crooked arm to watch her hand wind its way down his body. He looked casual, but internally he was tense. He'd yet to even take his jeans off; he knew what Kerry meant, and knew he couldn't deflect her much more—

"Don't you want anything? It's great that you do so much for me, I love it! But I was hoping, well, that I could do something to you, or . . . you know, we could . . . have sex, tonight?"

—he knew his last relationship went south because he wasn't honest. He didn't have the same issue with Rio; his meds were different then and he didn't have the current problem of not getting it up as often, so she never knew there was something else underlying. That was unfair; that was stupid. Maybe it wouldn't have mattered anyway, but not giving people all the information they should have—especially when he and Kerry had already shared so much—but not everything, Murdock hadn't ever told her the truth about himself and the team, that was illegal and he never wanted to hurt anybody—he was torn, there were so many secrets and it was all just so unfair—

"Murdock?" Kerry asked. "Are you okay?"

It took another second for him to refocus on her. He took a breath and even his inner turmoil and her confusion hadn't stopped her hand from moving further and further down his bare chest, to his stomach, dipping dangerously close to his waistband, dangerously close to the source of what will be her pain and subsequently, his—

"Kerry, hon," he finally answered, caution thrown to the wind and no more lying, grabbing her hand because it tickled and he needed to tell her before she made the discovery on her own, "I need to tell you something."


	7. Chapter 7

For several agonizing minutes, she'd been frozen. She'd listened to what he told her. He could see the information being processed in her head and then he didn't know what to do: should he hold her? Should he say something else? Should he cut his losses and just get out of bed? He could let himself out.

Murdock closed his eyes against the perceived rejection and tried to lick his lips. His tongue was too dry to complete the act.

When Kerry _still_ didn't say anything for another impossible eternity of seconds, Murdock resolved to get up.

He readjusted his weight to turn over, an apology on his dry lips. He knew the next words he spoke would be pitiful and crumble into dust in the air. He wanted to say how sorry he was—

Kerry grabbed his elbow.

"What are you doing?" she asked.

He shook his head that she couldn't read the signs. "I'm leaving."

"Why are you leaving?" she asked.

He'd give her credit for sounding surprised, but had to take points away for making him repeat everything again.

"I told you. I can't . . . be a proper boyfriend. I can't get it up. I . . . I have mental problems, real problems. That's not fair to you. It's not fair to anybody."

He wanted to sound angry, but couldn't. What was the sense in being angry about something inescapable?

Kerry sat up beside him and didn't relinquish her hold. "No, you said that your medications fucked around with whether or not you could get it up. Not that you couldn't _ever _get it up."

Murdock looked over his shoulder to her. She was looking at him, directly at him, not in that uneasy, flitting way that so many people did when they realized he wasn't joking, that he had problems that were beyond their scope of experience and the only mental patients they'd ever known were the crazy people in horror films. Kerry tugged at his arm and he turned slightly back.

"That's what you said, right?" she persisted. "Which means that sometimes you _can_ get it up. Now if our relationship was just based on one hundred percent physical animal rutting, that could be a problem—"

Murdock couldn't hide his surprise either, when he caught the tease in her tone.

"—but I hope that it's not just that."

Kerry finished in a softer voice, and her sentence almost lilted upward, like a question.

Now she glanced away, like she was embarrassed to admit something like that out loud. Why would she be embarrassed to say that? That was silly, Murdock thought; he'd just finished telling her he'd been in and out of psych wards most of his adult life, his meds jacked up his bodily functions so he couldn't maintain an erection like a normal guy should be able to do, and she's ashamed to confess she likes his company and is maybe hopeful they have something special?

It almost made him laugh.

Murdock turned back towards her again. He didn't lie back down completely, but seemed less likely to bolt out of bed. He hoped.

He couldn't think of what to say. He asked, "Really?", and mentally kicked himself for sounding slow.

Kerry nodded.

He still couldn't think of what to say but it didn't matter. Kerry scooted closer again and kissed him. Murdock thought it was the sweetest kiss he'd ever been given. A dull, aching tingle settled in his belly. He wished the arousal would wind its way into his groin—there may have been a twitch down there!—but besides the phantom movement there was nothing.

Kerry broke off the kiss but stayed close enough that he couldn't make out the fine details of her face. Her breath was quicker again.

Murdock slipped a hand over her bare side again. "Do you want me to continue?" he asked in a whisper.

He could tell she smiled, and bit her lip before pulling back a bit. Coyly she dragged her fingernails down his chest again, watching her own hand instead of him, before nestling them just under the waistband of his pants.

"Would you get naked? If I say yes?" she countered.

Murdock swallowed. "Yes."

He immediately dropped back on his shoulders so he could use both hands to undo his fly.

Kerry hindered him by not moving her hand. "And if I say no, I don't want you to continue? Would you get naked then?"

He swallowed again. She watched him with eyebrows raised.

". . . yes."

Her smile at his response, as hesitant as it was, was worth it.

Murdock shed his jeans and briefs. A different kind of tingle pricked at him; he was burning up and he knew it was more akin to embarrassment instead of arousal this time.

Kerry didn't seem to notice this.

She looked him over—that was okay, he'd seen her naked so it was only fair—and ran her hands over his now bare hips and down his thighs—her fingernails tickled, but the slight scratching felt good too. Her middle finger slipped into the crease of smoother skin between his thigh and groin.

He couldn't help but jump.

She glanced up at his face. "Even if you don't have an erection, does it feel good to touch it?"

"Y-yeah," Murdock stuttered, and jumped slightly again as her fingers moved and became feather light on his unresponsive cock.

It was a curious feeling, a woman handling him, stroking him, teasing him while he wasn't erect. It did feel good, and again Murdock wished the sweet ache would light a fire down below instead of just making his insides quiver and turn his brain into mush. His cock still kept its own counsel, however, and remained indifferent.

A couple fleeting thoughts flashed through his mind: maybe Kerry thought he'd been lying, or that she believed she had the power to awaken the sleeping . . . well, not princess, because he was a guy, and no one ever wrote a story about an enchanted prince awaiting for a kiss from a beautiful woman to bring him up and out of the spell cast on him—

Murdock laughed deep in his throat. It was a bedroom sound, flavored by the fact that her hand rubbing him felt nice. It was more akin to a throaty moan than a belly-laugh, and Kerry stopped watching her hand and looked up at him.

He hoped, now that she had firsthand experience—haha wasn't he the comedian!—that he wasn't going to get a hard-on like a normal guy, that she wasn't going to be disappointed.

The expression on her face, like she was amused that he was laughing, made him think that maybe this would be okay.

Kerry let him go and scratched her way back up his chest. She caught the side of his neck and she kissed him, taking in his chuckles and replacing them with her tongue.

Murdock tried, but couldn't stop laughing. It shifted from stimulated to giddy.

Kerry gave up trying to kiss him.

He'd have to tell her, have to make her understand sometimes he swung from one emotional tree to another with very little warning, that it was part of his mental illness, that he couldn't really control it, just keep it at a tolerable level—

Kerry started laughing with him. Not at him, even in the throes of mirth Murdock could tell the difference. She laughed and held his hand and kissed his chest while she giggled. She didn't get the joke—yet—but was still comfortable and happy to be with him.

Maybe this will work, Murdock thought. Maybe this time it'll work . . .

_fin._


End file.
